


How Fragile We Are

by orphan_account



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Character Death, Character Study, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Getting Back Together, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mourning, Multiple Pov, NHL Chowder, Other, Post Break-up, Pregnancy, Single!Dad Jack, Suicide, agender Lardo, established relationships - Freeform, happy endings, nhl jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 01:44:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11303160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It's what you're supposed to do after college.  You grow up, you move on, you make yourself a life.  You don't always stay friends with the people you were meant to stay friends with, and sometimes love falls apart.  When a former member of Samwell Men's Hockey Team dies, years after they've all graduated, the rest get together in an attempt to understand why, and where it all went wrong so they can maybe make whatever's still standing, feel right again.





	How Fragile We Are

**Author's Note:**

> So I watched The Big Chill the other day (again) and I've been dealing with some angsty feels, so I decided to pour this into a fic. You can consider it very very loosely based on that film (in the sense that a death of a close-knit group of friends brings them all together after years apart) but otherwise the plot is nothing like the film at all.
> 
> I'm going to put spoilery warnings at the end-notes, so feel free to skip down to that if you want to know which character died before you start reading. The death is off-screen and before the fic starts, but the grief and mourning and discussions of suicide can be pretty raw in this fic, so please take caution if you're triggered by that sort of thing.
> 
> There's a happy ending for all ships, even if the tone is a bit dark through the fic.
> 
> Multiple PoVs, but the main story is the reuniting of Jack and Bitty

On and on the rain will fall  
Like tears from a star like tears from a star  
On and on the rain will say  
How fragile we are how fragile we are  
-Sting

*** 

Death is expected. It’s always expected, because it’s one of the only things you can count on from the moment you’re born—inevitably, in the end, you will die. Those you love will die, those you hate will die. Every person you’ve ever come across will die.

So it’s the strangest thing how unexpected it is, how like a punch to the gut it feels—even when you haven’t seen a person in years. The idea that although the inevitable has occurred, although the most natural thing in the world happened—it shouldn’t have. The grief of realising you’ll never see them again, that everything that went unsaid will remain that way from now through eternity, can be all-encompassing.

Sometimes, you just don’t care. Sometimes it doesn’t matter because that person stopped meaning anything to you.

But sometimes it’s crushing, it’s suffocating because there was so much time to do more, to make it better, to reconnect and take back what you once had—or create something new with a brand-new foundation and sturdier structure.

Eventually, you accept it, you move on. And it still hurts, there’s always that emptiness left behind, but there are the rare moments it can lead to a new beginning, a way of healing—not just from the grief, but everything else you might have left behind.

*** 

“Yo! Did you see the news? Zimmboni, you knew this guy, right?”

Jack turned to Mercy, taking in the thick goalie pads, the creases on his face where his mask had been resting for their hours and hours of practise. “Uh. No, sorry. I just got off the ice. Why, what’s up?”

“Bro, it’s been all over.” Mercy shook his head, handing over his phone which had droplets of sweat along the sides.

Jack grimaced, but stared down at the screen, the little scrolling news on the ESPN app, and then a name he hadn’t heard in quite some time—but a name he’d never forget.

Found Dead: AHL forward William Poindexter.

There was a funny buzzing in his ears, like someone had left static TV on too loud and too long. He hadn’t realised he was crushing the phone until his knuckles began to ache, and his eyes glanced up at Mercy who was struggling out of his pads.

“You played with that guy, right? Poindexter?”

Jack swallowed, his throat dry and swollen, but he managed a quiet, “Yes,” before handing the phone back. “Shit. I have to…”

He was showered, his clothes sticking to his body through the humidity of the locker room, but he was dressed enough, and if he didn’t get out of there right now…

His head was a jumble of thoughts, and his brain—achingly betraying—thought, _call Bits_ , before the rational part of him reminded him he hadn’t seen or spoken to Eric Bittle in five years, and he didn’t even have his number anymore, so he couldn’t if he wanted to. And the truth of it was, Jack didn’t know Dex all that well. A single season, and they had been Bitty’s frogs, not Jack’s. But the harsh reality was he was hurt because someone he knew had died, and the harsher reality was, Bitty was going to be devastated and Jack had no place and no right to offer comfort.

His fingers hit Shitty’s contact instead, trembling, but his voice was steady enough when Shitty’s loud greeting rang through. “You glorious Canadian Mother Fucker. How are you?”

Jack took a shaking breath. “I’m guessing you haven’t seen the news…”

*** 

Theo noticed almost instantly. He gripped the door handle, even as Jack pushed past him, and when Jack turned, he saw recognition in Theo’s face. He knew. The whole world knew, at this point, even if Dex wasn’t famous.

Jack gathered himself for a moment, choosing to focus on the patches of oil on Theo’s brown skin which had been missed by the make-up artist’s wet-wipes. He was wearing his favourite sweats and tank top, which he wore to every shoot when he and Jack were a couple.

Jack could hear the sounds of Alice in the back bedroom, yelling in a mixture of French and English at whatever toy she was playing with. Lately it had been superhero dolls, who were saving the world.

“I heard,” Theo said as he shut the door.

Jack gave a stiff nod. “I need to…um.” He cleared his throat. “There’s going to be a funeral, and a few things after. Is your schedule clear enough?”

“Yes,” Theo said without a second of hesitation. “Actually, I was going to ask you about taking her back up to see my parents. They’re in St Albert right now, and they’ve been wondering if…”

“Yes,” Jack said without hesitation, and then dragged a hand down his face. “I’m sorry.”

Theo stared, then crossed the room and tugged Jack into a firm embrace, holding him tight enough to comfort, to remind him that divorce or not, he wasn’t alone. “Don’t be sorry. Just…don’t.” After a moment, Theo’s hold went lighter and he asked, “Is he going to be there?”

Jack didn’t need to ask who ‘he’ was. “Yes. I mean…I think so. I would assume so. Dex was his frog.” Jack didn’t explain what that meant, and Theo didn’t ask. “I’m not going for him.”

“But you’re hoping…”

“Yes,” Jack admitted. Because up to this moment, over the last five years, Jack never had a reason to pursue anything. And he felt wrong and terrible to use a moment of someone’s death to hope that he could put things right again, but he took comfort in the fact that he was at least being honest with himself. “It’s probably hopeless but…”

“I don’t think so,” Theo said.

Jack would have argued further, but just then the small body of his daughter came tearing out of her bedroom, and flung herself into Jack’s arms with a loud, “Papa!” She hadn’t been expecting him, and she clung tight. “But why are you here?”

“I came to say hello, and tell you I love you and miss you. I have to go away for a few extra days, but you’re going to go see Pépé and Mémé Aoset with papa, okay?”

She pouted out her lip. “For a long time?”

“Just a little bit, okay mon p’tit coeur? You can be good for that long, right?”

Alice’s eyes flickered back and forth between Jack and Theo, then she sighed and laid her head on Jack’s shoulder. “But could you bring me a present? With a unicorn on it?”

Jack laughed in spite of himself, in spite of the raging grief and confusion and intense nerves firing through his veins. He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Of course. I love you, and I’ll call you, okay?”

“Okay.” She scrambled out of his arms to go play again, and Jack hovered on his feet as Theo watched him for a long moment.

“If you need anything…” he said.

Jack nodded, then started for the door. “I know. Thank you. I’ll call soon.”

Theo crossed his arms. “I’m sorry, Jack. But I hope it all works out.”

Jack wasn’t sure Theo was sincere, but all the same, he appreciated the sentiment.

*** 

Lardo grinned, shaking the fuzzy sort of sleep-deprived discomfort from their head as they turned on their side, staring at the blank canvas which—during their nap, had not miraculously painted itself. A disappointment to be sure—since they were hoping pregnancy might induce x-men levels of powers and fill the gallery so they could spend the last few weeks laying in bed and nursing pregnancy pains instead of worrying about becoming irrelevant to the art-world during their upcoming six months of leave.

There was time to finish everything up, though.

Rolling onto their side, Lardo stretched, then startled as the bedroom door opened and Shitty walked in. Lardo took in his expression—drawn, mouth turned in a frown, limbs sluggish, and they realised something wasn’t entirely right.

Pushing their palms to the mattress, they shifted upward. “What happened?”

Shitty glanced over, eyes a little narrow, and a deep-chested sigh escaped him. “How long have you been napping?”

“Like, pretty much all day,” they confessed. “Why? What the fuck did I miss?” They started to feel a little panic, like something big was about to escape Shitty’s lips and suddenly they didn’t want to know. Even if not knowing wouldn’t make a damn difference—right now, pregnant and emotional and exhausted, ignorance was such, such bliss.

“Dex is dead.”

It took a moment for that to sink in, for it to make sense in their brain, and when it did, their chest felt constricted and tight. “What…what? What?” they managed. Gulping for air, they scrambled all the way upright. “What happened?”

Shitty dragged a hand down his face, groaning as his head fell backward, and he let out a tense, upset laugh straight to the ceiling. “Jack called. Mother fucking Jack Zimmermann who hasn’t called since Pesach, fucking called me because apparently his goalie showed him ESPN. Most of google says nothing, because he was an AHL player no one gave much of a shit about. But it looks like suicide.”

That hit harder than anything else, a punch to the solar-plexus, and Lardo felt their knees collapsing, and their ass hit the edge of the bed as their world swam. They pressed fingers into their temples, trying to control their breath so they didn’t hyperventilate because that shit _had_ to be bad for the baby. “How…why? Why did he…? Fuck, Shits. Did anyone know?”

“I don’t know,” Shitty confessed. He walked to the chair under the window, shoved a few books to the floor, and collapsed in it. He looked small then, like he was swimming in his terribly expensive trousers. He drew his knees to his chest, and pressed his forehead against them. “Chowder probably knows now. I’m guessing Nursey’s next on the list, and Rans. Holster’s…fuck if I know, but I was texting him last week so…”

“Bitty,” Lardo said, barely above a whisper.

Shitty looked up, eyes red-rimmed. “Yeah. Fuckin’ Bitty.”

*** 

Fingers curling into fists, Bitty took a breath and tried to keep himself calm. It was getting more and more difficult these days, and he wasn’t sure if it was because relationships were just hard and he wasn’t doing enough work to make it feel worth it, or if it was the fact that it was a goddamn disaster and every decision he’d made after deciding to date David had ended up with him near tears.

“Do we seriously need to do this right now?” Bitty asked. He reached up, pinching his eyes shut with his thumb and fingers, and let out another breath. “I have so much to do right now and…”

“Well when are we going to talk about it? I feel like you’re avoiding me and…”

Bitty dropped his hands, focussing as best he could on David’s face. Sometimes it was easier to stare at his blind spots in the centre of his vision, than turn his head to see David properly because he was less inclined to feel the rage surging through his veins. “Do you really want to have this fight right now?”

“It wouldn’t be a fight if you just…”

“What?” Bitty demanded. “Pay your demands?”

“They’re not…”

“Telling me that moving here would make you happy, that the only thing you dream about is us sharing a house together and being together, should not have come with a fucking bill of expenses, David,” Bitty said. He swallowed again, trying to calm himself. “And this shit with the dates…”

“Moving in together means sharing expenses,” David defended.

“I didn’t even want to come back here!” Bitty all-but shouted. He took a step back from the counter and closed his eyes. “I hate this place. I fucking hate Georgia—I hate everything associated with it. I hate being here and remembering when you and your friends…”

“Are we doing that again?” David spat. “Am I never going to live that down?”

Bitty bit the inside of his cheek. “I’m not saying that. I’m saying I have negative associations with this place, and you making me feel even more unwelcome because you want me to pay you back for half our dates…”

“You make me sound like such a fucking monster,” David shouted, and Bitty flinched, taking a step back.

It wasn’t working. It had been a stupid idea when he ran into David a year ago—a stupid idea when David moved into his apartment, and a stupid idea when David said they’d be able to afford everything more if they just moved to Atlanta after Bitty graduated.

But then again, Bitty had always been a bit of a dumbass, and he knew that. The day he shattered Jack Zimmermann’s heart because he thought it would be easier for the both of them was his worst decision ever, and he’d spent the last five years regretting it.

The last five years of quietly, from afar, watching Jack on social media as he was traded, mended his broken heart, and moved on. To a nice man, one he came out to the public for, and adopted a little girl.

They were broken up now, Bitty knew that much, because he was a snoop, and because he could never let things go. He had no right to be upset—he’d done this. Jack had been suffering, his anxiety taking a turn for the worst and therapy was okay but they wanted Jack on meds and Jack was struggling. Then Bitty had gone to the doctor and learnt about his vision failing and he knew if he told Jack—everything would be ruined. Their relationship was enough pressure as it was, just existing.

So for the good of Jack, he put things to an end.

And he hated himself for it every single day after.

He supposed that maybe it wasn’t entirely David’s demand for Bitty to “financially compensate him” for all the expenses from dates and the move. As much of a dick-move as it was, mostly Bitty wouldn’t have even let himself entertain a relationship with a man who’d once locked him in a supply cupboard if he hadn’t been so desperate to make the aching hole in him shaped like Jack Zimmermann, fill up.

Bitty opened his mouth to argue a little further, when his phone began to buzz. Rolling his eyes, he turned from David, pulled his phone out, and answered without checking the ID. “Yes?”

“Hey.” The voice was familiar, quiet, and thick like the person had been upset. “Hey Bits. It’s Shitty.”

Bitty reached out blindly, recognising the heavy grief for what it was, and panicking because there were very few things that could make Shitty Knight sound that sad and Bitty didn’t want to hear any of them. “What…um…”

“It’s Dex,” Shitty said. “Bitty he’s…we just found out he’s…”

The rest of the conversation was a blur. Bitty came to with his phone in his hand, clutched tight enough to make his palm hurt, sitting on the sofa with David a few feet away. Bitty blinked, rubbed at his eyes, then looked over. “I have to go.”

“Funeral,” David said.

Bitty nodded, then stopped and shook his head and swallowed again. “No I…I have to go. To…I have to…I can’t do this anymore. I’m…I’m going to drive up to Boston and um. I’ll get my things um…soon. Or whatever. I’m sorry.”

David didn’t fight him, didn’t argue, didn’t try and stop him as he packed a bag, and booked a ticket, called and uber, then left.

*** 

“Man, this is a fucked _up_ reunion.” Ransom leant back against the cushion of the chair, glancing round the living room in a house none of them had ever been invited to. They’d all had assumptions about Dex’s upbringing. Not as wealthy as Jack, Shitty, or Nursey had grown up, but big enough to accommodate Dex and his siblings.

Their family was large, and side-eyed most of the members of SMH, who were the only hockey players—some current, some former—to the private service. The Providence Bruins had done a public ceremony for Dex, before any of the details of his death had been released.

Shitty had been the one to get the information, to spread it to the rest of the team. The funeral had been sad enough, and that was just a heavier weight on them now.

“Shitty was saying something about some cabin he rented,” Chris said, leaning over toward Ransom. “Did he tell you?”

“He might have,” Ransom said, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I don’t know, man. I think I’m still in shock.” He fell quiet after a moment, when he realised what he was saying, and who he was saying it to. Because he’d seen the look of empty horror and grief on his own boyfriend’s face when Holster called to tell them. Derek had gone deadly silent, his eyes far off, shoulders tense.

Ransom knew their relationship had always been…different. A pair who worked together on the ice in sync like almost no one—like him and Adam. Only everything else was like oil and water, and it had been Chris’ mission in life to play peacemaker between them.

Derek hadn’t stayed in touch. No one had. It was just what people did after college, it was just…life. Grad school came and went and somehow Justin had drifted into Derek’s radar, and Adam had moved to Portland, and it was on fucking facebook of all things that Justin had learnt Jack and Bitty had crashed and burnt, or that Shitty had knocked up Lardo.

It was supposed to be that way, though. And he understood people died. He did. He had barely enough fingers to count when it came to kids he went to high school with who hadn’t made it to forty. But people weren’t supposed to fucking go like this. You weren’t supposed to live with someone, and spend years with them all up in your space and then stop talking to them only for them to eat a fucking bullet.

Ransom leant forward, breathing carefully—in through the nose, out through the mouth. Panic was welling in his gut, and his hands were shaking, and Derek was who the fuck knew where. He could hear the raised voice of Dex’s mom somewhere off in the distance and suddenly the very last thing he wanted in the world was to look into her face and see that hollow grief of knowing she had to bury a son and no one fucking knew _why_.

There hadn’t been a note.

He just decided one day he was done, and then…

He was.

“Fuck,” Justin breathed.

He startled when a hand took his, and he glanced at Chris whose eyes were red and puffy, but he wasn’t crying anymore. “It’ll be good, I think. You know? All of us there?”

“Don’t you and Jack have like…games and shit?”

Chris shrugged. “They can fine me all they want. My friend just died.”

Justin couldn’t help a tiny smile, and he carefully pulled away from Chris, pushing himself to his feet. “You think they have drinks here?”

“No idea,” Chris said. “But I’m willing to bet wherever Shitty booked us, there’s enough to get us through to next winter.”

*** 

Bitty was all nerves—from about a thousand things, but mostly because Jack was there, somewhere, and it was crowded and he was feeling the pressure of knowing he hadn’t kept in touch with anyone, and he had sort of blow-torched his relationships with every single member of SMH he’d known.

His frogs, which he was supposed to take care of—school ending be damned. And he’d failed, and now Dex was dead, and what was the fucking point of knowing anyone, of loving anyone, if he could let them slip away like that.

He clutched a drink in his hand, tight, wrist aching, and he gulped at it. He felt the weight of his guide cane in his back pocket, though he didn’t need it in a house this small. It was mostly being found out, that this reunion over the death of someone Bitty should have kept in touch with would end up being all about the stupid shit they never told each other.

The little stuff didn’t count. The stuff he posted on facebook, or the emails or texts he shared with the handful of people who bothered. But what, exactly, did it mean when Shitty knew he’d tried a new granola last week at a nearby café, but didn’t know he was in once-a-week treatment because he’d been going blind for the last five years?

He took a swallow of the drink, letting the alcohol burn his throat as he made his way toward a corner, which led to a door where he could hear a slew of familiar voices. None of them was Jack, but Bitty didn’t think Jack had changed so much that he’d be chatting away so there was the risk but…

“Eric mother fucking Bittle.”

He had precious little time to prepare himself before Shitty had him in his arms. There was laughter, and a resurgence of tears, and then Shitty was yammering on and on about the house he’d rented. “It’s not far, and it’s stocked, and Lards is super stoked for this. Trust me, they don’t leave the bed for anything, but they are for this because they fucking missed you, maybe more than I did.”

Bitty wanted to say no. Then he was determined to say no because just then the other swinging door he was pretty sure led to a kitchen opened, and Jack walked in. And yeah, Bitty’s central vision was pretty fucked, but there was no way he could miss the fact that Jack was still tall, and gorgeous, and huge. He was mid-season huge, and his shirt left nothing to the imagination, and his trousers were like a glowing, red arrow pointing right to his ass and god…

Bitty determinedly kept his attention on Ransom and Holster who were cuddled up on one of the sofas like old times. _No,_ his brain told his mouth. “Yeah, I think that would be great,” his traitorous mouth told the rest of the group, and there was a slight cheer because apparently Bitty was the last one to give his assent.

Then the inevitable happened. Jack slid up next to him, not touching, but close enough for Bitty to realised he used the same fucking cologne, and god…it was so unfair. He probably deserved it, but damn. “So does everyone have their own cars?”

“Rans and I are together,” Nursey said, and his voice was rough like it was the first time he’d spoken all night.

“And I’m with them. We flew in together,” Chris added.

The rest was a yes, until it came to Bitty who said, “I don’t drive. Um. Anymore.”

The collective pause told him there would be questions later, but for now Jack just said, “I’ve got room in mine, Bittle.”

And fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck his fucking life and everything in it.

“Alright,” he said, instead of all that, because it was just fucking easier that way.

*** 

“Shitty said there’s booze, but no food, and I have the biggest back seat, so do you mind if we stop. I expect you want baking stuff, eh?”

Bitty, whose hand was gripping the handle to keep himself from doing something stupid like launching himself out the window, or launching himself at Jack, shrugged. “Yeah. I mean…lord I don’t know if I’m going to manage anything. This is so…it’s…”

Traffic was terrible. It was snowing, and they were in a line of cars waiting to get off the street. Jack hit the brakes a little hard, then cleared his throat. “Stop.”

Bitty turned, squinting at him in the dim light of the winter evening. “Stop what?”

“Blaming yourself.”

“I’m not…”

“Five years isn’t a lifetime, and you haven’t changed that much,” Jack said, a little more sharply than he used to talk to Bitty, but he supposed he deserved it. “I know what you’re thinking, and Dex didn’t kill himself because one friend didn’t check up on him. We don’t know why exactly, but I can tell you it wasn’t because you failed to sneak into his apartment and bring him soup the last time he was sick.”

Bitty fucking _hated_ how well Jack knew him still. He took a shaking breath. “Fine. I’m…okay so I am blaming myself, because I could have done better by him. By everyone.”

“Same could be said for all of us,” Jack reminded him.

They were silent the rest of the drive, apart from the one long scream inside Bitty’s head.

*** 

The trip to the shop was his undoing, and Bitty knew it was going to be because grocery shopping was a huge pain in the ass. He couldn’t really read anymore, not with the way his vision was deteriorating. Navigating through crowds and aisles wasn’t the issue.

It was when Jack said, “Which of these do you think we should get?” that kind of sold him out.

“I don’t know. Get…both. Whatever.”

Jack heaved a sigh, because it was the answer Bitty had given for the last ten things they were picking up. “Can you just choose. I don’t know labels—I have a personal shopper and…”

“I can’t read the label, Jack,” Bitty said, flustered and just…ready to be done with it. “If you want to read it to me, I can…help. But you’re going to have to do most of this yourself because I can’t dang _see_ anything you’re showing me.”

The silence of the pause rang in his ears, making him crave noise—even if it was just Jack shouting at him. And then what happened might have even been worse because Jack didn’t demand to know why, or how long, or say sorry or any of that other shit Bitty hated.

Jack did exactly what Bitty had wanted everyone else to do when they found out about him. He accepted it and moved on. “They’re flour, Bittle. Um…so this one is all-purpose, and this one is cake, and I think they’re the brand you used to use but…”

“Cake,” Bitty said, his voice a little raw.

And the rest of the trip through the store went exactly like that, and Bitty wanted to explode.

He didn’t. Instead he stuck close to the trolley and helped Jack load everything into the back of his SUV, and then buckled himself in. There was more silence, as they pulled out onto the road, and the GPS told them they had forty-five minutes to their destination.

“You’re blind.”

The statement startled a laugh out of Bitty, who scrubbed a hand down his face. “Uh. Kind of? I’m…getting there. Um. And I might be like in ten years or if the treatments quit working.”

“So how much…”

“Twenty percent of my central vision is gone in my left eye, twenty six in my right. And I get injections for it, and it’s slowed the progress because if this was ten years ago, I’d be totally blind by now but I’m not so…” He trailed off, letting his frustration get the better of him as he shrugged.

“Do any of them know?”

Bitty let out a bitter laugh. “No, Jack. No one knows. It was just easier this way.”

“Like it was easier to pack your shit and move out, and not give us the chance I wanted to give us?” Jack asked, and it was mean, like Frog year mean, and Bitty couldn’t help but snap his gaze over and let his mouth drop open.

“That’s…” He wanted to say it wasn’t fair, because it didn’t feel fair. But that would have been a dirty lie, and Bitty was so tired of just…everything. “It wasn’t like that. Not in the same way.”

“How so?” Jack challenged.

“Because I was so fucking in love with you it hurt to breathe, and the idea that you having to shoulder any of my burden along with everything else you had going on made me want to kill myself just to relieve you of any risk,” he snapped, and hated how true it had been. “And I realise the fucked up timing on even saying that to you, Jack. I do. Which is why I’m saying it to just you, and no one else. But it was a lot. You were a lot, and I was a lot, and then the doctor told me I was losing my vision and I didn’t know what the hell that was supposed to mean for me because I wanted to do grad school and get a job, and have a life. And it wasn’t even until almost three dang years later that I was stable enough to do that, and now…here we are.”

There was another, pointed silence. “I should have done better,” Jack said.

“Just…”

“No,” Jack interrupted. “Let me have this. You should have done better, too. You shouldn’t have taken away the choice from me, for my own good. But I can’t even promise I could have handled it back then because I was a mess and it took me two years to dig myself out of a hole which was—if possible—even deeper than the one I was in during the Q, right before I ate a bottle of pills to make it all stop. So I can’t be mad.”

“You’re allowed to be mad,” Bitty countered, his voice small, the pain almost overwhelming.

Jack sighed. “I guess I am allowed, Bittle. But I’m not.”

*** 

Bitty walked out of the kitchen, into the huge living room and grabbed the chair nearest to the fire. By the time he and Jack arrived, it was snowing in earnest, and all he wanted in the world was a stiff drink, warm air, and somewhere to park his behind without being obligated to move for at least an hour.

“Okay, I’m rolling a joint,” Shitty said as soon as Jack stepped into the room. “Anyone obligated to NHL drug screenings, carrying children, or have other protests are exempt, but we’re getting fucking stoned and-or drunk.”

No one really had an issue with it. Lardo was sipping on something sparkling—Cider, Bitty guessed—and Jack elected to have water, but otherwise everyone was all-in. There was crap beer, like they had at the haus, and soon the smell of weed permeated the air and ripped Bitty right back into the past where he’d be sat in the arm chair, trying desperately not to stare at the captain he was head-over-heels in love with.

“Alright,” Shitty said, his lungs tight with smoke, “who’s going first?”

“For what?” Nursey asked. He was sprawled across one of the sofas, his head in Ransom’s lap, and Holster perched between Ransom’s legs on the floor. Chris was curled up on the loveseat next to Jack, who was staring at Bitty openly.

Shitty had Lardo between the V of his legs, propped up against the arm of the sofa, his hand splayed on their swollen belly. “It’s come to my attention that none of you fuckers kept up with any of you other fuckers. And no, I’m not talking about everyone seeing Chris and Cait’s facebook photos of their trip to London last spring, okay? I’m talking about actual shit that used to actually matter.”

“Shits,” Jack said from behind a sigh, but Shitty cut him off.

“No, my gorgeous jar of maple syrup, there are no protests here. Because we lost one of us, okay? I know many came before us, and many came after—in so many words, so many meanings.” Everyone groaned during his pause. “But the harsh fucking truth is, this was a surprise because none of us knew, because none of us talked. And that can’t happen. I might not be able to prevent a death—I probably couldn’t have stopped Dex, and I doubt any of you could have. But fuck…we could have known. We could have…there might have been something to ease this fucking black-hole of pain right here,” he rubbed at his sternum. “So I’m going to start. I asked this gorgeous person to marry me. They said yes. They got knocked up, and being a parent is the scariest fucking adventure I’ve ever decided to embark upon. And I’m so fucking worried about what’s going to happen that I considered taking a job at my father’s firm just for…security and all that.”

“I talked him out of it,” Lardo said mildly, rolling their eyes. “But he isn’t wrong. I wasn’t really into the idea that I wanted to use my uterus for baby-making shit. And yet here I am. And I’m frozen half the day with worry that the second I go on baby-leave, the art world is going to forget I exist, and what little people I have to come see my shit are going to move on to someone with a life way more free than mine’s about to become. But I’m also happy and marrying this asshole was probably the best thing I’ve ever done.” 

Shitty reached down, tipping Lardo’s face up, and kissed them softly. “I fucking love you, bro.”

Lardo laughed. “I love you too, asshole.”

There was a pointed silence, then Holster said, “I’m in love. His name is Charlie, and he’s from England. Loving him was terrifying because in the back of my mind I always kind of thought somehow I’d end up caught back in Rans’ orbit. Then he showed up all…fucking perfect and he loves me and…” Holster shrugged. “Then all I can think about is like…am I betraying my path? Like am I supposed to fall in love and move on? I was doing pretty good until Dex died and now all I can think about is like…what if we’re not supposed to just move on? What if we’re…what if all the bad shit is happening because we weren’t meant to just disappear.”

There was another silence, and Derek reached over, twisting his fingers into Adam’s. “Dude, we’re not going anywhere, you know? You and Rans are like the tide—going out, coming in. It’s just your thing, and you’re allowed to be happy and love someone.”

Adam dragged a hand down his face, then smiled. “Thanks. I…fuck. Just…thanks.”

“I’m the worst offender, and I’m not,” Bitty said, and stopped abruptly. “I don’t even think I can share right now. Y’all I just…”

“I’ll show Bittle to his room,” Jack said.

The group went dead silent as Jack took Bitty’s arm, and the pair of them drifted up the stairs.

“Taking bets again?” Shitty asked softly.

“What’s the point. I’m not really interested in losing all my money again,” Ransom said, then dipped his head low and kissed Derek sweetly on the mouth.

*** 

There was hesitation at the door. Bitty could feel it radiating off Jack, even if he didn’t turn around. The door shut, and he held his breath until he heard his bag hit the floor, and he wasn’t sure if he was relieved or upset that Jack had stayed. Normally he would have been annoyed that anyone would have presumed—especially an ex of five years, but all Bitty could think about was the way the mattress beneath him was so soft as he crawled across, and collapsed against the pillows.

There was another pause, then Jack joined him. They sat half a foot apart, enough so Bitty couldn’t feel the heat off him, but enough that if he cocked his leg to the side, their knees would brush together. It gave him an odd sense of comfort, because Bitty had been apart from all these people for so long—including Jack—but Jack was the only one he’d never really let go of.

Resting his head back against the pillow, he closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. “Where were you when you got the call?”

Jack made a noise in his throat, then cleared it. “I was in the locker room. Morning skate,” he said. “Mercy—our goalie—he came in with ESPN on his phone and asked me if Dex was the one I’d gone to school with.” Before Bitty could say anything else, Jack said, “I thought about calling you first. Then I remembered I didn’t have your number.”

Bitty rolled onto his side, facing Jack, but wasn’t brave enough to open his eyes yet. “I was in the middle of breaking up with my boyfriend.” When Jack made an aborted noise, like a protest, Bitty finally looked at him. It was hard to see his face from the angle—he was too close so his blind spots took up most of it, and he had to tilt his eyes to the side to see Jack properly. “His name is David.”

“Did I know him?”

Bitty laughed. “God, no. I don’t think I could’ve dated anyone we knew. Hell, I couldn’t even go to a café we’d both been to, there’s no way I could fuck someone else like that.”

Jack’s jaw tensed. Bitty could see the tendons working in the side of his jaw. “I wanted to. I wanted to fuck someone we knew, so they’d tell you about it. But I couldn’t…I didn’t date for a long time.”

“Yeah,” Bitty breathed, because he knew that much.

“Then I got married, and then there was Theo. And then there was Alice.”

Bitty’s gut twisted at the idea that Jack had more. He had a family—even if the husband was now an ex. He had a daughter, and a team, and a life and it was all the way across the other side of the country. And he knew this because he’d looked, and everything he’d done had been a secret to Jack because Bitty hadn’t wanted to let anyone know that his eyes were falling apart, and his dreams of—well—anything really seemed just out of reach, and he’d given up so badly that he’d moved back to the one place that hadn’t ever done anything for him but torture him.

“She’s with him right now,” Jack confessed.

Bitty let out a small sigh. “I’ve seen photos. She’s…she’s beautiful, Jack. She’s…” _Everything I ever wanted with you, everything I thought we were going to have, and then life decided to fuck us all up and…_

“He left me because I was still in love with you.”

Bitty squeezed his eyes shut again, willing himself to breathe, to say something—anything at all. “I moved back to Georgia.” When he dared to open his eyes again, Jack was watching him, his expression open, but unhappy. “David was working at my eye doctor. In reception, during his internship. I recognised him immediately.”

“Who…?”

“He was the one who held the door open as the other boys shoved me into the storage cupboard,” Bitty admitted. As much as David had accused him of throwing that incident back in his face, Bitty hadn’t told a soul who he was. Now, confessing it to Jack, he laughed. “I…lord I wanted to do so many things when I realised who he was. But I pretended like I didn’t know, and let him talk to me, all sweet and friendly like. Then on his last day he…he asked me out.”

Jack’s eyes went wider. “He what?”

Bitty let out a helpless peal of laughter. “He did. I thought…it had to be a joke, right? Here I was, still small, still gay, going fucking _blind_ and he’s asking me out for what? To get those assholes together to recreate his greatest moments?” Bitty swiped a hand down his face. “He told me he was sorry. He bought me a latte and told me he had been so afraid that someone was going to find out about him, that he latched on to anyone who took attention away. I…guess I understood? In a way? I don’t know. I was so desperate to not think about you all the time that I just went with it.”

“You dated him?” Jack asked, his voice almost a whisper.

Bitty laughed, turning so he could push his face into the pillow to hide his blush. “Yeah. Yeah I…deserved it, in a way. I mean, he wasn’t…” Bitty stopped. “He wasn’t all bad.”

“He tortured you,” Jack said, his voice harsh—angry. “Bits, he…”

Bitty was laughing again, because there was so much more, and god saying it to Jack was humiliating and humbling and all the same he wasn’t even sure what he meant to accomplish by confessing all this shit like he was suddenly stuck in a confessional with an inexperienced priest. Ironic mostly because Jack was Jewish and probably had never seen the inside of a cathedral before. “He did. He fucking bullied me relentlessly until my parents had to pack up and get the hell away from there. Then he asked me out, and we dated, and he begged me to move back to Georgia with him. I was so desperate to get away from the ghost of what we had…I agreed.”

“And then you broke up,” Jack said.

Bitty shrugged. “He tried to charge me for our dates.”

Jack made a noise, pushing up on his elbow to look at Bitty a little bit better. “He…what?”

Laughing again, so much his stomach was starting to hurt, Bitty rolled onto his back and covered his face with his hands. “He charged me, Jack! When I got to Atlanta, he handed me an itemised bill of the expenses he’d covered over the last year! Dates, vacations, moving expenses. I don’t…Jesus Christ I don’t even know how to process it and I didn’t even have time because I moved in and two days later Dex died.”

Jack was staring so hard, Bitty’s giggles died on his lips, and when he was quiet, Jack reached out and brushed a lock of hair from Bitty’s forehead. “He’s an asshole.”

Bitty snorted. “Yeah. Figured that one out all on my own, Mr Zimmermann. But thank you for looking out.”

“It shouldn’t have happened this way.”

Bitty sighed, cocking his head to the side to better look at Jack. “No. It shouldn’t have. You shouldn’t have fallen apart, I shouldn’t be losing my sight, I should have trusted you—you should have been able to help me through it. We should have moved to Seattle together and adopted three kids and painted our picket fence white. We should be at an SMH reunion with everyone here and alive and not fucking dead…”

And then it hit him. He’d cried before, but not like this—the gut-wrenching grief like someone had twisted an invisible hand straight into his chest and ripped it all out, bit by bit with each sob. Bitty curled into himself, pushed his face into his pillow and wailed. It wracked his body, sudden and startling and so intense every muscle in his body ached.

Jack froze, but not for long. Soon he was pulling Bitty close, and brushing fingers into his hair the way he always used to do, and speaking words of nonsense—a mixture of French and English—right into Bitty’s neck until the moment passed, and Bitty calmed, and the storm dissipated.

Bitty thought maybe he should be embarrassed by it, but he was too exhausted from everything that had gone wrong, and he thought maybe this entire thing was a mistake. He was the worst offender of them all, and he really didn’t belong there.

“I should leave in the morning,” Bitty murmured.

“I wish you wouldn’t,” Jack whispered back.

“Do you think this is going to change anything?” Bitty’s voice was sleepy—he was drifting, still clinging to Jack, even though he knew he should let go.

“I don’t know,” Jack admitted. “But I’d like the chance to see if it will. I’ve been wanting that chance for five damn years, Bits. Don’t you think we owe it to each other?”

“To fuck it all up again?” Bitty asked, then yawned. “Stay with me tonight.”

Jack snorted, brushing his hands through Bitty’s hair. “I’ll stay until you’re asleep, but I think any longer would be one of those mistakes neither one of us wants to make again.”

“Speak for yourself, Jack,” Bitty said, but he was already drifting, and besides that, he knew Jack was right. In the end, it didn’t matter. Come what may, he’d be leaving tomorrow and hoping to piece himself together, maybe a little better than when they found him.

*** 

“Deets.”

Jack looked up from his coffee, rolling his eyes. “Sorry, Shits.”

Shitty sighed, leaning against the window frame as they stared out at the vast whiteness that covered the yard from the front door, to beyond that. Feet upon feet of snow. The roofs of the car were barely visible, and what little signal Shitty could manage on his phone told them the roads were shut down, and no one was going anywhere.

It was a miracle they still had power.

Jack had gotten up early in hopes of stopping Bittle from doing a runner, and it turned out it wasn’t necessary. As per usual, Bitty hadn’t stirred by eight, and they couldn’t get the front door open, let alone dig out a car. And Bitty—his eyes being what they were—apparently couldn’t drive anyway.

“You’ve got time. I know that’s your plan, Jack-a-belle. It might have been years since I’ve seen your beautiful face, but I still know you like the back of my hand.”

Jack sighed, sipped his coffee, pressed his forehead to the window to feel the biting cold against his skin. It was grounding, refreshing in a way. “I’m probably an idiot for wanting it. He ripped my heart out—and he doesn’t seem inclined not to do it again.”

“I think you’re wrong. He hasn’t felt safe in a long time. Not since you. And your breakdown…”

“I know,” Jack said, and as much as he knew that his mental illness wasn’t his fault, and that he wasn’t going to call himself a bad guy because he couldn’t control his anxiety—part of that was what sent Bitty packing. For his own good, and it was unfair and it hurt because he should have been allowed to make up his own mind, but Jack wasn’t sure he wanted to think of a future where he might have let Bitty down.

And there was Alice, and Jack would burn down the world and rebuild it from ash if it meant she would be happier.

His heart ached with how much he missed her. His heart ached from knowing that if he played his cards right, he might have someone to introduce her to in a little while.

“Did you know he was going blind?”

Shitty froze, his mug halfway to his lips, and one eyebrow slowly rose. “You’re serious.”

“I’m serious,” Jack said. “You keep up with him on…you know. Internet shit. He implied no one else knew, but…five years, Shits. How did no one else know?”

Shitty’s face fell, and he dragged one hand through his hair which was shorter than Jack had ever seen it. “Fucking…fuck. He was right, you know? How we all fucking failed each other. I know Bitty wants to shoulder that burden because whatever fucked up shit that happened to him as a kid left him believing he needed to care about all of us or we’d fall apart but…” Shitty trailed off. “If I’d taken ten minutes to just make Bits talk to me…”

Jack wanted to say Bitty would have been stubborn enough to hide it, but he wasn’t sure how true that was. In truth, everyone wanted to assume everyone else was doing fine, and no one wanted to do the hard work because it was painful, and it reminded them of a past they’d never get back to, and Jack knew what that kind of regret felt like.

“I never thought it would be like this. Seeing him again, being here. I never thought…”

“It would be in mourning over your dead friend you didn’t even know was suffering?” Shitty asked, his voice angry—likely at himself, and maybe a little at everyone else. “Trust me, I fucking get it.”

Jack thumbed the rim of his mug, then finished off the coffee. “I’m going to try,” he said decidedly. “Maybe it isn’t right to try and rekindle romance when everyone is so damn sad but…”

“I’d say it’s what Dex would have wanted, but I don’t even know that for sure,” Shitty admitted. “Barely knew the guy, barely had time to give a fuck and now he’s dead and I won’t have a chance. But I’m going to be selfish here, brah, and tell you that’s what I want. Because life can be shit, but Lards and I are over the moon happy most days and I want you to have that because I love you, and I love Bitty, and fucking hell, man, the both of you deserve it.”

Jack smiled, then reached into his pocket. “You want to see the selfie Alice sent me last night?”

Shitty’s grin was so wide, it nearly split his face. “You fucking know I do.”

*** 

“You can stop looking so smug,” Bitty muttered as he slid up to the counter to grab coffee. Jack shrugged, but the tiny smile remained on his face, and he shifted just a little closer.

“Shitty checked the weather report. Another two feet of snow tonight, so it’ll be a while before we’re out.”

Bitty ran his hand down his face and sighed, glancing out the kitchen window at the sea of white. “I don’t think we have enough food.”

“Rans and Holster found a stocked fridge in the basement. Apparently Lardo had it set up, but forgot to tell Shits,” Jack replied with a shrug.

Bitty should have felt comforted by that, but instead worry crept into his bones. “Jack…”

“I just want a chance,” Jack said, his voice low enough so no one could hear them. “With you…with everyone. To make this better again. I’m not delusional. I don’t think we’re going to walk out of here and start planning weekly lunches with each other but…merde, Bits, I’m tired of trying to move on.”

Bitty licked his lips and uttered a quiet, “Me too,” before hurrying away to the living room where Ransom was busy smearing some sort of thick paste all over Lardo’s stomach. Something was playing in the background, it sounded like a TV show theme song, but it was coming from someone’s phone. Holster was splayed along the floor near the armchair, his feet propped up on the table. Chowder and Nursey were talking quietly near the window, and Jack was still in the kitchen, lingering with Shitty.

There was a sudden, profound moment of déjà vu, of feeling like he was back in the haus, and they were just being lazy in the moments leading up to more moments, except now there was a gaping hole in the shape of Dex, and no one knew why. He felt pain constricting in his throat—hot and burning and so confused.

When Bitty looked at the kitchen doorway and saw Jack hovering there with too much promise and too much hope in his eyes, Bitty knew there was no chance he was going to tell him no.

*** 

It was late, and no one should have been up when Bitty curled into himself in front of the fire. But only a minute or two after he sat, a warm body slid up behind him. It was not Jack. The way he was being held was harder, like they’d never done it before, and Bitty turned his head to the side to see Nursey as he bent down to rest his chin on Bitty’s shoulder.

“Every time I wake up, I keep thinking it’s going to feel better. Then it doesn’t, and I don’t know how to make this stop,” Nursey said quietly. “I don’t want this to infect me, you know? Like shit…I was so happy. We’re so happy at home. How am I supposed to go home and live with this and still be happy?”

“I’m not exactly the expert on happy,” Bitty confessed.

Nursey sighed. “Shitty said you’re…you got some thing going on…with your eyes. Um…”

“I’m going blind,” Bitty said, realising it was getting easier and easier to just say it. “I don’t know how bad it’s going to get. I’m on treatment that’s really slowed it down but…yeah.”

“Is that why…?”

“It’s why a lot of things, hon,” Bitty interrupted, reaching up to tangle his fingers with Nursey, to tug him against his back a little tighter because the base comfort felt really good right then. “It’s not really an excuse though.”

Nursey sighed again. “My senior year, uh…” He cleared his throat, his voice sounding thick. Shaking his head, he restarted, “Pretty much all through college, Dex and I hated each other, you know? Like…I tried to be chill about it, but I couldn’t understand why he was so fucking determined to undermine my experience. Like okay I get low-key racism in all white people, but he was always after _me_ and I just…fuck. Chris always said it was like how little kids on the playground pull your pigtails—because they like you and that’s the only way they know how to express it. But I didn’t want to accept that because I deserve better than to be fucking mistreated by someone who wants to fuck me.”

“You do,” Bitty said.

Nursey laughed. “Yeah, I know, Bits. One night, right before Winter Screw, I told Dex that. Everyone was out, and we were drinking and trying to help Chowder with some of the plays he was working on while he was at the movie with Farms. And he was getting kind of shitty on this really old tequila we found in the cupboard. He um…” Nursey went quiet for a moment, his eyes squeezed shut. “He was staring at me, then he just kind of…kissed me. And I don’t even really know how I was feeling because part of me felt vindicated and part of me was so angry because he could have just said something. I knew his family was pretty homophobic so I get why even at Samwell he stayed closeted, but he took so much shit out on me. But we kissed for a while until my brain remembered he was way more drunk than I was. So I stopped him, and he got upset and stormed out. I got up to go after him, but then my mom called and told me about my sister…”

“Right,” Bitty breathed, because he knew about that. Derek’s sister had been in an accident and was in a coma for four weeks. He took some leave to be with her and ended up graduating a semester later than everyone else.

“I got back halfway through spring term and he wouldn’t even _look_ at me, you know? Like when he did, it was like I was a stranger and I just…” Nursey cleared his throat. “I just let him. I just let him shove all that shit down and now he’s dead and I can’t…I can’t ask him if maybe he’d be alive if I’d…”

“Don’t,” Bitty said, his voice strained, tears prickling in the corners of his eyes. “That way lies madness, Derek. Trust me.” He reached up and swiped his hand under his nose. “We have to accept we might not ever know why he did what he did. It wasn’t one thing, though. And it wasn’t you. You were not responsible for putting yourself in a position where your job was to keep him alive. Even if he was going through shit, you were allowed to walk away. Someone else’s trauma and mental health is valid, but it doesn’t mean you have to subject yourself to abuse.”

Derek swallowed thickly, nodding. “That’s what Rans said. What he’s been saying, and I just…I know that. I do.” He squeezed Bitty harder, and shoved his face in the crook of Bitty’s neck, breathing soft for a minute. “But my head is going to a dark place and I don’t know how to make it stop. I just…fuck, I need to know if he was at least happy sometimes.”

“I’m sure he was. We all fucking failed him in a way, because we don’t know,” Bitty said. “But we failed each other, too. Only for the rest of us…it’s not too late.”

“Not yet,” Nursey said.

“No,” Bitty agreed, “not yet.”

*** 

Creeping up the stairs, Bitty paused in front of his room, but he knew he wasn’t going to stop there. Jack was less than ten feet away, and the floorboards were silent, giving no indication to anyone that Bitty had made his choice.

He paused at Jack’s door, knocked, then turned the knob and walked in. Jack was on his bed, one leg stretched out, the other crooked up near his chest, an arm wrapped round it. He had his phone in his hand, and didn’t entirely look surprised to see Bitty there.

“I’m on the bed,” he said quietly.

Bitty laughed. “Not that blind yet, but thank you.” He shuffled his feet with hesitation, then crossed over and climbed onto the mattress which was slightly harder than his own. He shifted until his back was against the headboard, his shoulder pressed to Jack’s. “What are you doing?”

“Looking at photos of Alice. I miss her,” Jack said.

He handed his phone over, and Bitty stared down at the screen, tilting his head so he could see her face. She was one of the cutest children Bitty had ever seen—even without his strong bias. She was small, with wild dark curls, light brown skin, dark eyes, and a grin which he was certain could power a small country. Bitty had seen her before—pap shots and press. Jack liked to take her to all the family skates, and he’d been spotted dozens and dozens of times coming out of ice cream parlours or the zoo. He looked happy in all of them, content even after the publicised divorce, and Bitty wasn’t sure how that made him feel.

“I’d love for you to meet her,” Jack said quietly.

Bitty felt his grip go tighter on the phone, and he held it until the screen went black. “I don’t…know what any of this means. But I don’t think I’m the kind of person who wants to waste a second chance. And I’m not going to do Dex’s memory disservice by saying at least his death brought us all together again—or even to imply this was what he would have wanted but…”

“You’re not a bad person for taking what’s being handed to you,” Jack said.

Bitty dropped the phone, then turned to Jack and put his palm against his cheek. “I can’t promise it’s going to be better, or easier, and I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future, but…”

“Bits,” Jack said, his voice low and breathy. Then his hands were on Bitty’s waist, pulling him in close. Their noses brushed first, Bitty’s breath hitching in his chest when Jack’s top lip caught on his bottom. And then they were kissing. It was like the first drink of water after being denied for so long, the feeling shooting into every limb, making his head spin, and his entire being crave more, and more, and more.

Jack didn’t protest when Bitty shifted, turning to straddle him, to press their chests together as Jack’s hand held onto his waist firmly, Bitty’s fingers twisted in the front of Jack’s sleep shirt. The kiss was messy, too much teeth and just this side of desperate. It was nothing at all like their first kiss, which was tentative with Jack’s anxiety, and the uncertainty of going somewhere neither of them had been before.

This was something more. It was coming home after years apart. It was realising that for all that they’d tried to move on, they’d split up, each holding half a heart in their hands. It held the sharp edge of fear—the what ifs, the knowledge that neither of them were particularly put together, and their lives had drastically changed.

But they still wanted it.

That was the most heady part of the whole thing. He wanted it, and he realised now that he was willing to take the risks, and sacrifice whatever needed to be sacrificed if it meant he could go on being allowed to love Jack Zimmermann.

“I’m sorry,” Bitty murmured when he realised he was crying.

Jack pulled back, brushing his thumbs against Bitty’s cheeks, swiping at the warm drops. “Is it Dex?”

Bitty shook his head. “It should be. But right now it’s because I realised what I’d been livin’ without for too many years, and it was all my fault and…I don’t deserve this but I’ll do whatever you want me to do to make it better.”

“I just want you to be happy,” Jack said, and pressed his hand to the small of Bitty’s back, dragging them together as close as they could get without crawling under each other’s skin. “But mostly I want you to be happy with me.”

Bitty let out a wet laugh. “Lord, I want to do so much right now. Like drag my hands over every inch of your body, and swallow your cock down because fuck, I missed the taste of you so much. And I want to feel you moving inside me, and…” Bitty swallowed. “I want to pack up and go home with you because I think if I have to see the inside of that fucking apartment in Atlanta one more time I’m going to lose it.”

Jack pushed his fingers into Bitty’s hair, mussing it to hell, dragging him down by the back of his neck to lay slightly desperate kisses across his mouth, his cheeks, the side of his neck. He bit down lightly in the crook where Bitty’s neck met shoulder, then soothed it with his tongue. “Come home with me. We did it before, we can do it again. I don’t want to waste anymore time.”

Bitty laughed, closing his eyes as he shuffled down so he could let Jack’s arms wrap him up, hold him fierce and firm. He knew it was a stupid idea, but of all the stupid ideas he’d made in the past, he had a feeling this one wouldn’t end up nearly as much as a disaster as before. He turned his face up, kissing at the underside of Jack’s jaw, and he breathed out a sigh.

“Okay Jack.”

“You mean it?” Jack asked.

Bitty smiled, and let his ear press to where Jack’s heart was thumping hard. “Yeah, sweetpea. I mean it.”

*** 

_“Just shoot, you piece of shit! God…when you said you wanted to come play pool, I didn’t realise you meant getting schwasted and making dick-jokes about pool cues all night.” Dex laughed when the tall blonde hip-checked him into the side table, making a glass tip over, spilling dredged of beer across cocktail napkins. “Asshole.”_

_The blonde laughed, eyes sparkling. “You fucking love it.”_

_Dex couldn’t help his grin, the slight blush making his freckles stand out, and he didn’t protest when the guy dragged him over. His head tilted in expectation of the kiss which was laid across his mouth, drawing out and out until Dex was laughing again, shoving the guy off. “You’re a dick.”_

_“And you fucking love it,” the guy said again._

_Dex rolled his eyes, and flipped him off, but the camera managed to pick up a very quiet, “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”_

*** 

“Did you ever find out why he did it?”

Holster stretched, rolling over to rest his head against Charlie’s lower belly. His abs were well defined, but soft with relaxation and having spent the entire day in bed. His hand drifted lower, brushing over the tops of Charlie’s hairy thighs, through the thatch of soft pubic hair. The tip of his first finger pushed between his folds, drawing up against his still-lubricated dick, which pulsed hotly. He wanted round two, but he needed a moment and he kind of wanted Charlie to strap his dick on and fuck him this time.

“Babes,” Charlie groaned, shifting his hips a little. “I missed you and as much as I enjoy all the fucking…”

Holster sighed, rolling over to his other side. His hand drifted up the centre of Charlie’s chest, fingers playing with the smattering of chest-hair, then to the side where the keyhole scar rested near his left nipple. He pushed his thumb against it for a second, then his hand fell flat, his fingertips pulsing with the beat of Charlie’s heart. “We never did figure it out, no,” he finally said, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat, and shrugged against his boyfriend’s chest. “The third day, Rans and I started scouring the net, and we found this old Youtube channel that looks like it was Dex’s. There was a video—no voice-over, but it was watching the tide come in at Jensen Beach, and you could see the edge of someone’s feet in it. Then there was a video of Dex and some guy shooting pool and kissing. It was really short, less than a minute. It was sweet though.”

“How long ago?”

“Eight months,” Holster said with a tiny sigh. “Everyone wanted to know that he’d…that for whatever reason he did this, he was happy sometimes. The video proved it but…fuck. It didn’t make me feel better.”

Charlie’s fingers drifted to Holster’s hair, then down his cheek, moving down to cup his chin and draw his gaze up. “Sometimes shit happens.”

“I know,” Holster breathed. “I feel like maybe somewhere in the world someone knows why the fuck…why he…” He stopped. “I think that’s enough. Like maybe after all these years, we don’t get to know. You know?”

Charlie laughed, pushing his thumb into Holster’s bottom lip, then letting it go. “I know.”

Holster grabbed him by the wrist, then kissed the centre of his palm. “But it helped. I got Jack’s number—and he’s having some house-warming shit after Bits officially moves in, and Rans and Nursey are going to come stay one weekend next month. Lards and Shitty want us to come over and meet the baby. Chris and Farms want to go with. It doesn’t mean all’s right with the world, but…”

“At least it’s something?” Charlie offered.

Holster sighed. “At least it’s something.” He moved again, kissing his way along Charlie’s chest, up to his neck, biting down gently just under his ear. “Now enough morose shit for a while. Will you get your dick on and fuck me?”

Charlie laughed as he kissed Holster, long and deep. “Yeah babes. Anything for you.”

*** 

“Jesus Christ. That is the most gorgeous, glorious human being that ever breathed life on this planet. Babe…” Shitty reached a hand down, hesitant like he might hurt the small bundle lying in Lardo’s arms. “You did it. Fuck, you are such a warrior.”

Lardo rolled their eyes. “I took care of a hockey frat haus for four years. Trust me, this was nothing.” They looked down though, at their baby, their thumb pushing at an already well-defined eyebrow. “It hurt like fuck though.”

Shitty snorted. “Yeah. Babe I…I want to make a dozen of these, but I also never want to see you in that much pain again.”

Lardo looked up, their face slightly unimpressed. “Play it by ear?”

Shitty grinned, shifting his weight onto the bed so he could curl up next to them. He let his head rest against the top of their’s, and closed his eyes. “Sounds good. You know I love you, right?”

“I know.” Lardo’s voice was patient, having dealt with the aftermath of Dex’s death, and Shitty’s subsequent panic that if he wasn’t completely present in the lives of everyone he loved, another tragedy would strike. It would pass, they knew. It always did, and this was just Shitty’s way. Lardo’s hurt was always kept close to their chest, quiet, expressed more through art than words because they were always just better at it that way. But they were also a little clingier now, and a little more worried, and treasured every new text from the group they got over the last week.

“So. Names?”

“I’m sure you have a dozen suggestions,” Lardo said mildly as they laid back against the pillow.

Shitty brushed his hand down their child’s cheek. “I’d say William, but that just seems…”

“Yeah,” Lardo said softly.

Shitty tilted his head to the side. “Jacques?”

Lardo managed to cover up a sharp laugh with the back of their hand, eyes twinkling with mirth as they looked at their husband. “Fine, but if we do, I get to be the one to tell Jack and Bits.”

Shitty’s grin matched his spouse’s, and he held up his hand for a fist-bump. “Deal.”

Lardo bumped back. “Fucking deal.”

*** 

Ransom looked up when the front door closed, and he watched as Nursey dropped his bag by the kitchen chair, kicked his shoes off near the door, then collapsed directly on top of Ransom like a human blanket. His body was pliant, less tense than he’d been over the last few weeks, and Ransom couldn’t help his grin as Nursey nosed against his neck, then kissed him.

“Did you see the pics?”

Nursey snorted a laugh. “Yeah. Bitty’s comment section was hilarious. Jacques.”

“I need about a hundred reaction gifs of Jack’s face,” Ransom said, pushing Nursey’s shirt up, letting his hand splay flat against his boyfriend’s back. “How as your day?” He’d stopped asking, ‘how are you,’ because the implications were starting to get Nursey agitated. There was no way to make the grief better, because death was permanent, and Nursey knew he just had to learn to live with how it all played out.

“Long. Kids were being a pain in the ass, but I’ve had worse classes so…” He trailed off with a yawn. “Can we order out tonight?”

Ransom smiled. “Ch’yeah. I’ve been craving that dim sum place like you wouldn’t believe.”

Nursey laughed, shifting over to curl against Ransom’s side, letting his arms drift into a loose hold. “But like…in a bit. I just need this right now.” He hummed in contentment as Ransom drew lines up his skin, soft and easy and better than anything he’d experienced all day. After a long silence he said, “Did you think they were going to pick the name William?”

“If it were anyone but Lardo and Shitty…maybe.” Ransom sighed, then said, “Do you want to name our kid that?”

Nursey pulled back, pushing up to look at Ransom with a raised brow. “We’re having a kid?”

“A hypothetical kid,” Ransom said, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Nursey bit his lip, then leant forward for a kiss. “Hypothetically…no. I don’t. I don’t want my kid to bear the weight of my grief, you know? If Dex and I had resolved anything…” He trailed off. “Like it helps, knowing he was happy sometimes, that someone loved him and he loved back. But…I don’t think I want to do that to our kid. Seems like a one-way ticket to fucked-up.”

Ransom hummed in thought as Nursey laid back down, and he pushed his nose into his boyfriend’s curls for a moment, breathing in his scent. “Yeah. I get it. And uh. I’m not even sure I want one.”

“That’s why I fucking love you,” Nursey said, and Ransom laughed. “I mean, like a hundred thousand other reasons, but that’s a pretty big one.”

Ransom’s grin threatened to split his face as he held on a little tighter, and breathed out a sigh. “Yeah babe. It’s pretty much why I love you too.”

*** 

“That baby is so cute, I’m gonna die,” Caitlyn said, staring down at Chowder’s phone screen at the pinched-face of Shitty and Lardo’s new baby. It was small, and reddish-tinged, and squished face in that alien way that all babies were. 

Chris sighed, and reached round her, pushing his palm against her stomach which was only just now starting to round out a little bit. “Well don’t die just yet, babe. Not for like another six months.”

“But then I’m free to do what I want?” she countered.

Chris nodded, turning his head to kiss the side of her neck. “But tiny baby and I will be so so sad if you do that. I…” Grief hit him, unexpected. The joke would have been fine before but… He cleared the tightnes out of his throat, and squeezed her a little harder than he meant to.

Cait’s shoulders slumped, and she held his hand tight to her stomach. “Shit. Baby, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean…I was only joking. I would never…”

“I know,” Chris said very softly. He nosed behind her ear, and closed his eyes, and felt the anticipation of the moment he could do this with her, and feel the tapping and shifting of their child against his hand. But that was weeks and weeks away. It was easier to think of that, than the pressing grief which wouldn’t go away. It was getting easier, but not fast enough. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she said. She flicked to another picture, this one of Shitty trying to get the baby’s hat to fit on his head. “We’re going to visit them soon, right?”

“All of them,” Chris said, a sort of stony determination to his voice. “I’m not ever going to…I won’t let it get that bad again.”

“Okay,” she said, because arguing with him, reminding him it wasn’t his fault, wasn’t really helpful just yet. It was too fresh, too raw, and she knew that Chris just had to feel this until it didn’t hurt as much anymore. “Soon. Before I’m too big to fly.”

“Well when that’s the case, they can all fly out here. It’s way nicer than stupid, frozen New England.”

Caitlyn laughed as she twisted their fingers together and yanked him toward the couch. “Whatever you say, baby.” They collapsed against the cushions, Chris curling his body protectively round hers, and she closed her eyes. “I’m so tired. I could sleep for like two weeks.”

“I’ll cook dinner, then,” Chris said, stroking her hair softly.

“…kay,” she murmured. Her voice was still thick and sleepy when she said, “Wanna think of baby names later?”

Chris grinned, and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Heck yeah, babe. More than anything.”

*** 

At the smug look on Bitty’s face, Jack rolled his eyes and tugged him over, crowding him against the kitchen counter the way he used to do. The place wasn’t as familiar, but the motion was, and it sent a thrill up his spine as he dipped his head low to kiss Bitty’s mouth.

“She wouldn’t say I’m so much better at bedtime stories if you’d just do the dang voices,” Bitty chirped.

Jack huffed, nipping at Bitty’s exposed neckline, licking along his collarbone. “I don’t have to be best at everything.”

Bitty laughed, then said, “You say that now. But tomorrow night when it’s your turn, I bet you’re going to turn it into a three act play.”

Jack couldn’t help a laugh, the thrill of being happy, and complete, and Bitty being here, and his daughter loving him and…and everything he’d wanted. Everything he thought he lost, now cupped protectively in his hands. He brushed his fingers along Bitty’s jaw, and kissed him a second time. “Maybe I could focus on the voices if I wasn’t so shitty at the braille part.”

It was meant to be a joke, but it fell flat and Bitty’s face dropped. “You don’t…I mean…Jack, you can read the print version to her.”

Jack backtracked, pinching Bitty’s chin between his fingers so he didn’t lose him. “I don’t want to read the print version. I like…I like doing this with you, and Alice thinks it’s cool and I want…” Jack wasn’t sure how to put it in words, entirely. Not the way it made sense to him, because it was all feeling and emotion. “It’s important to me,” he finished.

Bitty’s mouth didn’t curve up, but there was a lightness to his body again, and his fingers didn’t shake at all when he brought them up to trace over the curve of Jack’s jaw. “Okay, sweetpea.”

Jack grinned, dropping his hands to Bitty’s waist, holding him firm. “How was everything else today?”

“Not bad,” Bitty said, then pushed Jack away so he could bring out the mixing bowl he’d been reaching for earlier, just before Alice had demanded her bedtime story. “Long. And Sandra—that PTA mom—gave me a lot of pushback for taking control of the bake sale. But I’ll show her.”

Jack laughed, feeling the wellspring of joy in his belly. “I have no doubt. I’ll get some of the Schooners to come by, too. Bring some press to the bake sale. We’ll teach her to doubt you.”

Bitty’s grin was bright as the sun, and he leant up on his toes to kiss the tip of Jack’s nose before getting started on the cupcakes. “That’s why I’m gonna marry you, you know.”

“I know,” Jack said. “My ability to roll with your southern passive aggression.”

Bitty rolled his eyes, but giggled and reached out to swat at Jack’s butt. “Amongst other things.”

“I feel objectified,” Jack complained as he plastered himself against Bitty’s back. They worked like that occasionally—an old habit from before, that carried over almost flawlessly. He smiled again, when Bitty hummed contently, leaning back just slightly as his hands effortlessly began combining ingredients.

After a while of silence, of just existing together, Bitty said, “I’m happy. There’s still that void, you know? A black spot that just…hurts. But I’m happy.”

Jack let out a small breath, then pushed his lips to the back of Bitty’s neck and murmured. “I’m glad, Bits. I am too.”

**Author's Note:**

> So the character death is Dex. I chose him because he has the most conflicted canon relationship with all the members of SMH (maybe apart from Chowder). There is no Dex-bashing in this fic, but there is some frank discussion of racism and internalised homophobia regarding the relationship between Nursey and Dex in their past that can come across pretty raw as Nursey deals with his grief.
> 
> Most of the characters' emotions come from my own, in dealing with the death of someone I feel very conflicted over, so this is basically just me venting some angst.
> 
> If you need to yell at me, you can do so on tumblr [angryspace-ravenclaw](https://angryspace-ravenclaw.tumblr.com) but be patient because I'm only on there once or twice a day so my responses are slow.


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